


The Art of Wine and Dine

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Empathy Bonds, M/M, Online Dating, SoulSeekers.com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: At forty-six, George Washington was finally ready to look for love. SoulSeekers.com offered the solution.





	The Art of Wine and Dine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexanger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/gifts).



> To be clear, this probably needs another round of editing.

_“I was one of the unlucky ones, I guess. By the time my bond came online I’d already moved six times. Military family, you know? They say more than half of soulmates live within fifty miles of each other’s hometown, but I never had one of those. I’d do anything to find the person at the other end of this connection, but where do I even start to look?”_

_\- Love Line with Dr. Drew_

 

 

Not only was Martha was a good woman, but she was a severe and reserved creature. Instead of leering at him with sly winks and nudges like Ben Franklin might have done, her thin smile only curled around the edges when he finally came to her for help.

“Well, your timing couldn’t be better,” she said, ushering him onto her couch and plucking his phone from his hands. “With Valentine’s Day over most of the more desperate types should have cleared off. We’ll find you a nice, dependable person. Someone to keep you company.”

“Like a dog.”

Martha clucked. “Nonsense, dear, with your shoulders you shouldn’t be settling for anything less than a six - even if you _are_ on the wrong side of forty now.”

“You’re very kind, Martha.”

He sat, head in his hands, as Martha’s deft fingers slid across the screen, a byproduct of raising teenage children during the Internet boom. George had retired his old flip phone only two years ago, after Martha had ‘spilt’ tea on it. Even on his new device, after an ill-timed honeymoon with Candy Crush and a subsequent messy divorce, he’d sworn off the world of apps.

Until now.

“Here we go.”

SoulSeekers.com pressed down on George with all the weight of its possibilities. Everything the world’s number one soulmate networking app promise was contained in its icon, two hands cupping a heart. It symbolized that connection between soulmates bloomed at first touch. Sitting innocuously next to SoulSeekers.com was an even more infamous app.

“ _Cinder_? I don’t want this.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Martha!”

“Oh, don’t be a prude, George.” Martha gave him a look meant for puppies that had piddled on a carpet. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with two consenting adults engaging in a relationships even if they aren’t soulmates.”

Perhaps Ben Franklin _would_ have been the better choice. At least then George wouldn’t have to deal with the all-knowing tenor of Martha’s voice.

“I’m not looking for just anyone,” he said “I’m looking for _the_ one.”

It was a topic they’d debated about for years. George said he’d had enough one or two date relationships when he was a boy. Martha told him illicit hookups in college didn’t constitute as dating.

“You and the rest of the world.” There was tea spread on the coffee table between them and she took her time stirring in a lump of sugar to her cup. “But George, just because you’re chasing after one thing doesn’t mean you should close yourself off to the possibility of others. Some people never find their soulmates and still settle into perfectly happy relationships.” She lifted her cup, sipping off the top. “And even if you do find your soulmate nothing guarantees you get to keep them.”

Her eyes had taken on the brittle, half-distance stare that meant she was thinking of Daniel. Even two decades after her late husband’s death and Martha’s grief remained a private, intense affair. George knew better than to try to comfort her, fiddling with the phone in his hands as she collected herself.

“I’m not even sure I have a soulmate,” he admitted into the silence that had fallen.

Martha took his hand and squeezed. “You forget that I’ve known you since you were a boy, George Washington. I knew you when you were the only person living in your head. And I know you now. What do you feel?”

“Tired. Old. Like I’m regretting this decision already.”

“And below that?”

George wanted to say nothing. For years and years it would have even been the truth. But it was there. In the back of his head. A faint stirring of emotions that didn’t belong to him. He knew the bond mostly by its anger, a low ember that always seemed ready to burn. It twisted with cords of ambition and melancholy and popped on that back of his tongue in sweet bursts of pride and victory.

“There’s something,” he finally settled on. “Someone.”

“Then find them,” Martha said. She nodded her head like the matter was settled and her voice swept in a new wave of mirth. “And the in the meantime, go have fun. Even _I’m_ on Cinder, George. Welcome to single life in the 21st century.”

 

 

_SoulSeekers.com - Expert Tip #2_

_The numbers are in! Did you know that nearly 80% of user who found successful matches on SoulSeekers.com logged their spikes at least twenty times daily? For better searches and closer meets, our experts recommend logging at least 20 self-emotion and 10 bond-emotion spikes a day. So get out there and start searching!_

Deux Mondes was a small French restaurant filled with intimate tables and an abundance of mood lighting. Like most things in George’s life, Martha suggested it. It was a place at once upscale enough for a romantic date and minor enough to avoid attracting a crowd of corporate luncheons.

George arrived to his date thirty minutes early, with sweaty palms and a dozen roses he’d regretted buying immediately. A few minutes past the hour and George ordered wine. Now, he sat at his table for two wavering over whether his current emotional spike was more _disappointed_ or _humiliated._

“I’m sorry, sir. We haven’t had anyone by the name of Sam Seabury come in. Would you like a few more minutes to look at the menu?”

His server was Peggy and she was lovely. Even thirty minutes past the beginning of his reservation and she didn’t come out and state the obvious.

George settled on _humiliation_ and logged the appropriate time stamp. A cartoonish heart rose out of his screen exploding into confetti as SoulSeeker.com declared him a _Determined Seeker!_

“Just the check for the wine,” he said, closing the app before he could throw his phone. “Thank you.”

Her smile was only a little pitying as Peggy walked away. George reached for the second wine glass across the table and drank deeply. Samuel Seabury – or _anglophile76_ as his profile declared him – certainly wasn’t going to drink it. In the dim light of the restaurant, George didn’t know why he’d decided the date was a good idea in the first place. Regardless of what SoulSeekers.com’s patented algorithm said there was no way someone who paid that much attention to his abs and then bragged about it online was George’s destined partner.

As if to mock him, a tickle of amusement ran through his ribs. It didn’t belong to him, which was just great. Even his soulmate was laughing at him. George sighed, dutifully reopening the app and logging the spike in amusement. _Time of humiliation: 7:36pm._

“Finally calling it quits then?”

“Excuse me?”

The owner of the comment stood behind him, easy to overlook in the same black button-down as the rest of the staff. Despite his uniform, the busboy didn’t look like any member of an upscale restaurant that George had ever encountered. Young and lean, with an overzealous nose and a ponytail, the busboy looked less like the pinnacle of fine dining and more like a grad student just rolled out of bed. He was smiling at George as he cleared a table, like he didn’t realize or care that his words were highly unwelcome.

“I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long. Usually you guys know in ten minutes whether the missus is just late or ditching.”

George straightened in his chair, smoothing his expression. “You assume I’m married.”

“If not, this whole thing became a bit more pathetic.” The busboy’s eyes lingered on the roses. “And I became a bit more of an ass.”

“You are a bit of an ass, yes.”

The busboy tossed his head back and laughed. He abandoned his chore and came to George’s table, resting his tub of dishes on his hip.

“I deserved that, I think,” he admitted.

George channeled every bit of his inner-Martha. “No. You’re the picture of perfect manners.”

“At least let me do my job.” The busboy nodded at the wine glasses. “Can I take those from you?”

“Ah.” George had very little dignity left to lose. He took Seabury’s glass and downed the rest of the wine, setting it down with a flourish and a wave. “As you were.”

It earned him another laugh. The busboy collected the glasses, grinning widely at him as he gave a mocking bow. “You know, I could get another bottle if you like. Consider it compensation for the terrible service.”

“I don’t know.” George’s ribs still tickled with a phantom humor, a sensation more pleasant now that his face was warm with wine. “I find Peggy fairly charming.”

“Oh, you thought I meant terrible service from us? No, no. I was referring to about your absentee friend. Is your girlfriend always so forgetful?”

George ignored the twinge of humility, wishing perhaps that he _hadn’t_ already finished the win. He covered it with a shrug. “I wouldn’t know. I never met him.”

“Is that right?” The busboy’s eyes glittered. “Some people are just rude.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Alexander!”

The busboy jumped, rattling his tub of dishes. Peggy came striding towards. She wore a rigid smile for George and a narrowed glare she aimed at the busboy.

“So sorry for the wait, sir,” she said, sliding the check across the table. She took her compatriot by the arm, lowering her voice to a saccharine hiss. “Alexander, if I could see you in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“ _Now, Alexander!”_

There was a thump and the busboy winced. Peggy smiled at George sweetly, even as she took the busboy by the arm and dragged him, partially limping, away. Alexander protested loudly, throwing looks at George even as he went, but George could still hear the undercurrent of Peggy’s voice as she scolded him.

_“How many times, Alexander? Cut the cock when you’re on the clock!”_

George left the table with a large tip for Peggy and a new spike to log. After a moment’s pause, he left the roses. If anyone could salvage them the way George’s night had been salvaged it would be Alexander.

 

 

_“In a world caught between the coming-out parties of the past and the soul crushing isolation of today’s modern cities, SoulSeekers.com offers REAL connection to REAL matches. If you’re still slumming in the city, ditch the streets and join SoulSeekers.com! For those looking to make a TRUE connection!”_

_\- SoulSeekers.com, February 2017 radio advertisement_

“And you just left? George! How could you!”

Martha waved her spoon in accusation, managing to appear disapproving even across the brim of her oversized mimosa. They sat on the patio of Martha’s second favorite brunch spot as they did every Sunday. Martha sported a wide-brimmed hat straight from church and George had cycled into one of his few pieces of casual wear, a sweater Martha had bought him last Christmas.

“What do you think of this one?”

George turned his phone to show her his latest possible match. There was a promising parallel between a series of annoyance spikes George had logged in the past week at work and the bond-spikes logged by his match. The user didn’t log often, but George thought the lines of their compatibility charts were encouraging. Nothing like the minor similarities of Samuel Seabury, as George, with a week of obsessive Soul Seeking, now knew.

Martha sipped her mimosa and gazed across the room. “I think I even know the busboy your talking about. He’s the one with the hair, isn’t he? Oh, George, who knew you’d be after such a tom cat!”

“Martha, please.”

“Oh, fine.” She scrolled through his phone with an unimpressed flick, completely bypassing the spike charts. “I’m sorry, are you expecting your soulmate to have four wheels?”

She turned the phone back on him, screened turned to the red Maserati bearing the username _C0mmandr2U._

George took the device back grudgingly. “It isn’t like I posted a picture of my face either.”

“Only because of your work. And you’re handsome so it’s not like it’s a bad thing.” She squinted at him. “You don’t even own a car.”

“This is New York. Nobody owns a car.”

Martha waved him off. “Do what you like. Even if though you are abandoning the poor busboy for a compensating sports car!”

A fork clattered on the table next to them. Neither George nor Martha paid any mind.

“Just promise me you won’t take this one back to Deux Mondes.” Martha picked back up her spoon, turning it to her plate rather than using it as an instrument of accusation. “If you aren’t going to reciprocate at least don’t rub it in.”

“I think I’m perfectly capable of picking another restaurant, Martha. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

 

 

_“I met my soulmates three months after signing up for SoulSeekers.com PREMIUM. It turns out we were living in the same apartment complex! Thanks to SoulSeeker.com PREMIUM, I had access to picture sharing and there she was! The girl next door! I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t decided to go the extra mile for love.”_

_\- Paul Revere, SoulSeeker.com PREMIUM Testimonials_

_START YOUR ONE-MONTH FREE TRIAL TODAY! CLICK HERE FOR CONNECTION!_

 

 

In person _C0mmandr2U_ was not a Maserati. In fact, he was a balding man past fifty with a bright ring of red hair around his shiny forehead and large, flaring nostrils. He spoke in a high nasal, carried around a gold pocket watch, and was married with kids. George knew him as Charles Lee who worked three doors down.

He realized all this exactly three steps into the restaurant when Charles Lee blew his nose into the exact paisley handkerchief George was on the look for.

The busboy found him hiding in the bathroom a few minutes later. In George’s defense, when _C0mmandr2U_ requested to meet only one day after making contact, none of George’s usual haunts could take a reservation that late.

“And here I thought Peggy was just messing with me.” Alexander stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “I had you pegged for a class act before, but you pulling for a sleazy bathroom hookup is surprisingly hot.”

“Close the door!” George drew back against the wall, scared of being spotted from the restaurant proper. Why he’d fled to the bathroom, rather than running for the door, he couldn’t justify. Now he was stuck.

Alexander stepped inside. “I should probably mention that I was joking. This door doesn’t actually lock and management might look a bit unkindly at us doing it in a stall.” He glanced down at himself. “There’s also the fact that I’m wearing rubber gloves and wielding a toilet brush.”

“I’m not here to fuck you.”

“And wow. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll find a new job, just say that word again.”

George wrung his hands and paced, shoes squeaking on the faux-marble floor. Alexander leaned against the sink counter and watched him. With a toilet scrubber in hand, he looked fairly absurd, but George had too much mortification to share.

“I’m beginning to suspect this isn’t about me,” Alexander said. “Mind filling in the peanut gallery or should I just get back to the toilets?”

George stopped walking. “I’m a grown man.”

“I’m aware,” said Alexander, with the effect of a slow inspection from head to toe.

“I’m being ridiculous. _This_ is ridiculous.”

George’s skin felt too small, flushed. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind Alexander’s head, seeing beads of sweat on his brow. Even across the room, the dilation of his pupils was startling. He was worked up. Not just that, he was _excited_. A younger man’s energy flaring through him and Alexander was still staring at him with that awful smirk. George eyes crawled up between the legs spread in tight black pants on the counter, all the way up to the gleam look in Alexander’s eyes.

The bathroom door opened. George’s gaze jerked away.

The interloper, an innocent stranger who glanced swiftly between the two of them, froze in the doorway. Alexander jumped off the counter, brandishing his toilet scrubber like a foil.

“So sorry. Closed for cleaning. Come back later.”

He shut the door with a firm click. “Now you.” The toilet brush turned on George. “Start talking.”

George cross his arms and shrunk back. That strange arousal gone was swift as it began. He thought of lying, but there was little point trying to save his pride around Alexander.

“I’m hiding from my date.”

“Really?” Alexander’s eyes widened. “Who?” George said nothing. “No. You can’t possibly mean that ginger?”

George just nodded.

“Really? Him?” George felt a flash of hurt, burying it before it could show. Alexander gaped. “At least tell me it was a blind date.”

“His profile picture was a car,” George offered.

“Ah.” Alexander peered at him. “Cinder?”

“Soul Seeker.”

“Classy.” Amusement slipped back into Alexander’s voice, lifting George’s spirits. “That explains why I didn’t recognize you at least. I keep a short list of the hot ones.”

The blatant compliment thudded into George, fumbled through his fingers, and floated to the floor. George cleared his throat, looking anywhere but Alexander’s direction. “Apparently he didn’t. He works with me.”

“No!” Alexander appeared delighted. “I don’t believe it!”

“Alexander, do you really think I have any pride left to save in front of you.”

“Well, if this is you at your worst…” Alexander perked up suddenly. “You know my name.”

“Oh, uh. The server – Peggy – said it last time.” The flash of heat in his cheeks was all his own.

Alexander stared at him. Rather than being impressed, he appeared suspicious. For a few agonizing seconds he said nothing.

“And you?”

“What?”

“What your name, man?”

“Oh. George. George Washington.”

He held out his hand to shake. Alexander made to reach for it, only to pull back with a rueful grin at his rubber gloves.

“Alright, George Washington. You win. Let’s get you out of here.”

George straightened immediately. “How?”

“There’s a door in the back. I’ll go distract your date,” Alexander’s nose wrinkled, “and you go out through the kitchens. The chef’s a good friend of mine. Just tell him I sent you.”

Alexander peeled off his gloves, tossing the brush under the counter. He opened the bathroom door an inch, George crowding behind him.

“Looks like he’s still there.” Alexander opened the door wider. “The kitchens are right down this hall. You good with the plan?”

This close to Alexander and George caught a hint of coconut. “I owe you, Alexander. Thank you.”

Alexander turned his head and met his eyes. A faint pink blush was painted across his nose.

“Bring me flowers again, George, and we’ll call it even.”

 

 

_SoulSeeker.com – User Agreement, Copyright 2017_

_“SoulSeekers.com does not guarantee a successful soulmate match. Database suggestions are dependent upon the existing pool of Soul Seeker users and participation. No refunds will be issued for services rendered. For TRIAL OFFERS and SoulSeeker.com PREMIUM see Membership Plans.”_

 

 

“You are seeing him again, aren’t you? George!”

“You say that like I’ve been planning this.”

“Have you?”

“I got a new match last night.”

“George.”

“We’ve been messaging back and forth. I like him, Martha. He seems real.”

“Just as advertised.”

  


 

_“From the moment I logged onto SoulSeekers.com I knew I was somewhere special. Using the specialized emotion spike tracking system, I began to pay much more attention not just to my bond, but to my own emotions. Even though I’m still searching for my soulmate, I feel much more in tune to who I am as a person and how, even if we haven’t met yet, we compliment each other.”_

_\- Peggy Shippen, SoulSeekers.com Testimonials_

 

 

George pressed a palm against his knee to keep it from tapping, trying to keep his eyes from straying from the table top.

“Of course, I’m not the type to settle down,” said the exceedingly handsome man seated across from him. “At least, not for just anyone.”

George chuckled weakly and reached for his wine glass. It was white – not his favorite – but it’d been on the table before he’d arrived. Benedict Arnold was a perfect gentleman, even pulling out his chair when George arrived.

“It’s a shame they don’t serve anything stronger here,” Benedict laughed as George lower an empty glass. “If I weren’t trying to impress you so much I’d suggest the pub around the corner.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” said George, though he hadn’t been in a bar outside a hotel lobby in years.

Benedict smiled at him. “Next time then.”

Benedict Arnold leaned forward across the table, elbows planted like ice picks in the white tablecloth. His gaze was lively and attentive and the creases around the corner of his eyes were the only sign that he was only ten year’s George’s junior. Seated at the table, George had the rare experience of facing someone his own height.

“So tell me, George. You’ve already told me so much about your job online, but what does a man like you do for fun? Do you travel?”

“For work, occasionally.” He fished for an interest, a hobby, anything. “I’m fond of the country.”

Benedict took hold of statement despite George’s floundering “Yes! That’s right. A man can’t truly be a man if he’s cooped up in between all this metal. Do you hunt?”

“Some.” What George remembered most about his childhood hunting trips were the dogs involved. “As a boy.”

Benedict nodded. “I thought so. Teach a boy to shoot and he’ll grow to be a real man, not one of these soft, complaining city boys.”

“I don’t know many people who would qualify New Yorkers as soft.”

Benedict waved a hand around the restaurant. “I’d like to see any one of these stiffs throw a punch or skin their dinner. Not like you and me.” Benedict leaned even further over the table. “We’re alike. I knew it the moment I saw you.”

George looked into the gleam in Benedict’s eyes and choked.

“I – ”

“More wine, sirs?”

The force of Benedict’s fist on the table sent the dishware rattling. The young woman serving jumped and George dropped his fork with a clang.

“Are you an idiot?” Benedict’s handsome features were twisted into an ugly sneer. “Can’t you see that we’re in the middle of something?”

“Benedict!”

“I’m terribly sorry, George. I’ll have this sorted out in just a moment.”

“That’s enough!” George’s tone was sharp enough to turn his date’s head. The server took a nervous step back, fingers tight on the neck of the bottle. George tried to smile at her, but the tightness around her eyes didn’t lesson. “I apologize, ma’am. Thank you for the wine.”

“Just leave it on the table,” Benedict added, waving his hand carelessly, sudden anger giving way to an ambivalent superiority. He gave an exaggerated sigh when the server scurried away, turning back to George with a charming smile. “Where were we?”

George took the serviette in his lap and laid it on the table. “Excuse me.”

He stood from the table, heading swiftly to the bathroom. In the sink, he splashed his face with water and took a long time washing his hands. His anger tasted like bitter in the back of his mouth.

Regretfully, Benedict was still seated when George came back to the table.

“Ah! There you are.” Benedict stood and physically pulled out George’s chair, seeming to miss lack of enthusiasm in George’s expression. He settled himself back across the table, planting his elbows once more.

“Listen, George, I’ve had a great night. I like you. You’re a good man. But I’m not looking to just like someone, understand? I don’t think you are either. How about we skip all the pleasantries and get to it?”

He extended his hand palm up across the table, his sleeve rolled up like he’d been planning this. George stared down at the hand then up at the handsome man that offered it.

“No.”

Benedicts smile slipped. “Excuse me?”

“No,” said George. “Thank you.”

He kept his hand comfortably in his lap as he offered his rejection. Benedicts face flared red, then turned a shade of puce he struggle to speak. The hand on the table curled into a first and jerked back. He stood loudly, attracting the attention of several of the other customers, and bent over the table.

“You won’t get better than me, old man!”

George waited, listening to his bond, but there was no spike, just that strong undercurrent of fury that George knew too well. He finally relaxed, relieved.

“Get home safely, Benedict.”

“Fuck off, George.”

Benedict knocked over his glass in his storm off from the table, washing the white cloth in unforgiving red. George sighed, watching until he was gone, trying to sop up the spill and feeling better despite the ruinous conclusion of his evening.

A throat cleared behind him.

George rolled his eyes. “Not now, Alexander.”

“Here is you check, sir,” said a woman’s voice behind him. He looked up to find the manager staring down on him. We’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry for my – ” he refused to say date “ – companion’s actions. Please send my apologies to the server.”

The manager stood over him with crossed arms as he signed the check, leaving the server a hefty tip. Outside, the spring night bit into his fingers.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the SoulSeeker.com icon. The promise of love was in those hands and eternity. George hadn’t found anything like it. He hovered over the delete button, finally pressing down. A weight shook free of him the moment there was nothing but empty space.

Then his eyes caught on the one app that remained.

 

 

_“I grew up as the girl who’d always wanted to marry and have a family. My sweet sixteen was basically a coming out party with cake. I shook hands with every person and read every magazine. Then I one day as I was sitting in my college orientation looking at the sea of faces the searching just became too much. I gave up. And that was the day Maria walked in.”_

_\- Elizabeth Schuyler, author of_ Look Around: Love Beyond Bonds

 

 

“He took me sailing, if you can believe it. It was very romantic. I don’t think he was quite expecting me to turn that shade of green though.”

Martha tisked at the memory and George leaned back in his chair, sipping his breakfast mimosa, and watching his friend enjoy herself.

“And how about you, George.” She tapped his knee. “How’s that love life going?”

“I’ve had few coffee dates here and there. Nothing too special.”

“Still no reply back then.” George didn’t even try to deny it. Martha looked at him shrewdly. “It’s been a few weeks, dear. It may be time to move on from this one.”

Even as she spoke, George felt an itch in his palm for the phone laying face down on the table. He resisted. “I’ve been trying. It’s silly, I know. I only met Alexander twice, but it’s like he’s living in my head, you know? Have you ever felt that way?”

Martha set down her drink and stared at him. “Only once.”

 

 

_“It’s hard to explain exactly. The Greeks did it best, I think, when they said it was like two souls coming back together; returning, not meeting.”_

_\- Martha Dandridge in “High School Soulmates,” Miranda High School Yearbook, 1989_

 

 

It was George who picked the flowers; bright yellows and pinks and oranges, tropical like Alexander’s scent, and loud, like George knew him best.

Martha tipped her hat and wished him luck as he scurried away early from their Sunday brunch. It was a warm day at the end of April and restaurant was some twelve blocks away. George swallowed them up on hungry legs.

The flowers he purchased on a street corner two blocks away from a florist who cheered when he walks straight past the roses. They earned him smiles on the street and George, buoyed, walked even faster.

He’d never approached Deux Mondes in the daylight and the place became candlelight and romance at night seemed bright and lively under the sun. Peggy’s did a comical double take when he came in, though not nearly as much as when she saw the flowers.

“No. Don’t move. I’ll get him myself.”

She ran towards the kitchen before George could even open his mouth. Nerves caught him the moment she left. He watched the door the kitchen swing shut behind her and experienced a sudden intrusive shock in his throat. It was surprise – not his – and George’s emotions were sent careening once more from his hands.

Peggy reappeared dragging Alexander by his sleeve. George knew at once she’d told him. The busboy’s feet didn’t seem to want to work. He nearly stumbled on a patron’s leg, earning himself a dirty look. Alexander – who hadn’t once looked away from George’s face – didn’t seem to notice.

Peggy released Alexander’s arm near the entrance, nearly visibly patting herself on the back. She stood by as several seconds ticked by. George and Alexander gaped at each other, neither making any move to say anything and Peggy’s smile slipped into an expression of utter disbelief.

“Honestly,” she complained. “Ruin all my fun. Congratulations, Alexander, you’ve got the afternoon off.”

She shook her head and walked off.

Alexander shuttered like he was coming away, blinking rapidly. Nerves climbed up and down George’s limbs, some his, others not.

“Would you like to step outside?” George asked. Alexander nodded rapidly.

Out on the streets, with the din of traffic and a breeze, it seemed a little easier to breathe. George’s fingers seized around the bouquet. He took a steadying breath, then forced himself to meet Alexander’s eyes.

“I know, this might seem a little sudden,” he began, then immediately backtracked. “Or not. I’m not really sure. Oh god, if you were avoiding me on purpose I can just leave?”

“Avoiding you?” Alexander’s stunned silence broke in a screech. His eyes bulged. “You’re kidding, right?”

George’s spirits perked. “So you weren’t?”

“Oh, Jesus!”

Alexander’s eyebrows pulled together, nose scrunched. He looked pissed until he started laughing, sharp barks of noise that drew looks from the street. It was infectious and George found himself chuckling as well, giddy with some feeling of relief.

When it at last died down, Alexander reached for his pocket, thrusting out his phone. There in the center was SoulSeekers.com. George met his eye in a question and Alexander blushed.

“When you didn’t come back I thought maybe it was time for me to get serious too.” Alex shrugged, shoulder’s loose, but his eyes remained fixed on George’s face. “I couldn’t find you there.”

“I deleted the app,” George said. “It wasn’t finding me the right person.”

“Of course. The one decent guy I meet and I scare him away for good.”

George couldn’t stand by that. “Do I look scared to you?”

He reached for his own phone. It took only a moment to select the Cinder flame. The app was already open to his message stream. Weeks of unread messages filled the screen. Probably too long by internet etiquette, but once he’d started George just hadn’t been able to stop. There were tidbits about his day, thoughts he had he thought Alexander might like, and smattering throughout it all were invitations to dinner.

“You never answered,” George said simply, holding out the screen.

Alexander lurched for it. His hand jerked up, but it paused before he could take the phone. They both looked down at the scarce inches separating their fingers. George could feel two hearts beating in his throat.

“I’m not usually like this,” George confessed. His voice had fallen. He looked up from their hands to study the lines of Alexander’s face. They already seemed familiar. “It’s not usually this easy for me to talk to someone.”

“I annoy most everyone,” Alexander said. “People aren’t supposed to _like_ me back.”

“I like you,” George said.

“I’m getting that.”

“Though you _are_ still a bit of an ass.”

Alexander’s laughed. The tension broke, sliding away to something easy and warm. Alexander’s eyes fell to linger on the bouquet.

“You really brought me flowers.” He licked his lips. “You’re a real class act, George. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for here.”

“Well, I’m sure,” George said and he reached out his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was soulmates and fluff. Hopefully this fit the bill.


End file.
